Voice (overheard)—The one in the white-lace gown and all those diamonds?
Another Voice—Yes. Well, you know it was common talk that before he married her—
Hostess—'Sh, 'sh, 'sh! Signor Padrella has offered to play some of his own compositions, but I thought you would all rather hear something familiar by one of the real composers—Rubens or Chopin—Chopinhauer, I think—
(Pianist plunges wildly into something.)
Voice (during a lull in the music)—First, you brown an onion in the pan, then you chop the cabbage—
Guest (in the dressing-room, just arriving, to another)—Yes, we are awfully late, too, but I always say you never can be too late at one of the Smythes' horrors.
Thin Young Woman (in limp pink gown and string of huge pearls, who has come to recite)—I'm awfully nervous, and I do believe I'm getting hoarse. Mama, you didn't forget the lemon juice and sugar? (Drinks from bottle.) Now, where are my bronchial troches? Don't you think I could stand just a little more rouge? I think it's a shame I'm not going to have footlights. Remember, you are not to prompt me, unless I look at you. You will get me all mixed up, if you do. (They descend.)
Hostess (to elocutionist)—Why, I thought you were never coming! I wanted you to fill in while people were taking their seats. The guests always make so much noise, and the singers hate it. Now, what did you say you would require—an egg-beater and a turnip, wasn't it? Oh, no! That's for the young man who is going to do the tricks. I remember. Are you all ready?
Elocutionist (in a trembling voice)—Ye-es.
Hostess—'Sh, 'sh, 'sh!